X-Ray of the Soul
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: "Just when his defenses were finally down and the scars of his past were beginning to heal, the one person he wanted to be with most was always out of reach." You know the drill by now - it's lyatt, it's a oneshot, and it occurs post-S1. (TFP)


_TFP fill for a previous month, because it's Septober and everything is fair game - "What have you done?!" "From the tone of your voice, I'm assuming I've screwed up."_

* * *

 _Jab-jab-cross._

If Wyatt could simply sweat out his problems, he would have already expelled thirty plus years of trauma, anxiety, and injustice of both the physical and psychological varieties. Too bad sweat alone wasn't doing the trick.

 _Jab-cross-left hook._

Every muscle in his body was howling in protest. This was the longest and most arduous workout he'd put himself through in the better part of a year, and it still wasn't enough to dispel the litany of his inner frustrations...all of which centered on one particular brunnette historian.

 _Jab-cross-hook-cross._

The vinyl punching bag sprang back at him so quickly after that last combination that it nearly smacked him right in the nose. Taking that as a sign for _enough is enough_ , Wyatt threw off his gloves and winced as they crashed into his gym bag with a punishing thump. Unleashing his pent-up emotions on inanimate objects really wasn't his style anymore. He'd made a point of breaking that bad habit some time ago, and the idea of going back to that childish frame of mind was bringing a resounding _hell no_ to his head.

One quick shower and a change of clothes later, he was off again, this time to Mason Industries for a unwarranted - and probably unwanted - check in with anyone who would give him the time of day. As of late, that list had pretty much dwindled down to just Rufus.

Jiya was out indefinitely, still being held for observation at the hospital much to her annoyance. Agent Christopher had been nothing more than a blur this past week, swamped beyond measure ever since the knowledge of Carol Preston's Rittenhouse sleeper cell had exploded like a bad news bomb, raining down a flurry of new agents, a few Homeland Security superiors, and a parade of frantic calls from as far away as the White House. Connor Mason was equally busy running endless database scans and reports of both the authorized and unauthorized nature. The other techs were scrambling to keep up with Mason's frequent demands, and most of them had barely given Wyatt more than a cursory hello beforehand anyhow.

Aside from not using inanimate objects as an outlet for his stress, he _also_ wasn't in the habit of lying to himself, not anymore, which meant he was perfectly aware that there was only one hello that he really wanted to hear when he got there. Sadly, it was also the one he was least likely to receive.

As expected, Lucy was incredibly easy to find once he'd arrived at Mason's compound. It was the same place he'd last seen her, the _only_ place she ever seemed to be at this point. She was locked away behind the closed door of a glass-walled conference room, surrounded by the usual brigade of unfamiliar Homeland representatives who'd flown in several days ago, and if Wyatt knew her as well as he thought he did, she was absolutely miserable. Her posture was beaten and worn, and her entire appearance screamed of a person who was beyond exhausted. She was drowning before his eyes even though she had two feet solidly planted on land.

Lucy flicked a chunk of hair over her narrow shoulder and bent over a sea of scattered files, studying them with a furrow of concentration marking her brow, but after a few agonizing moments of watching her unabashedly from the other side of the glass, Wyatt felt his breath catch when her expression tensed and she tilted her chin up to look straight at him from what felt like worlds away. They stared openly at each other for several beats of his ragged heart, and every painful hour of separation thawed away like layers of vanishing ice. It was an x-ray straight to her soul, a total rush to the head, and he was helplessly entranced. Her brown doe eyes flooded his senses with a thousand candid emotions until she abruptly dropped her gaze and turned her back to him. The curtain was down and his heart lurched against his ribs. His hand twitched at his side, but he curled it into a steely fist and refused to let his palm fly up to press against the glass barrier, not when the eyes of every agent in the room were currently inspecting him with detached interest.

Wyatt's background lended itself to isolation, whether that meant temporary periods of sequestering, quarantines, and imprisonments, or excursions into deserts and wildernesses of all sorts, he was no stranger to loneliness. In more recent years, loneliness had actually been a preference rather than an affliction.

But this...this was unbearable, mostly because he was sure that Lucy _wanted_ it to be this way. Just when his defenses were finally down and the scars of his past were beginning to heal, the one person he wanted to be with most was always out of reach.

It had only been a handful of days since she'd first learned her mom's secret, not even a full week since Wyatt had gotten that desperate phone call, her wobbling voice begging him to meet her a few blocks away from her house. He'd held her close that night, absorbed her countless tears with as many meager words of reassurance that he could muster, then drove her back to Mason Industries and stayed at her side as she shared what she knew with Agent Christopher. The blistering transition between having her so near in the flood of her grief for those first few hours and having her so far removed ever since was unfathomable. How was it that less than a week ago they'd been toeing the line on pursuing possibilities of a future together and now he was ready to throw himself through a glass wall just to hear her voice? If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed that his worst nightmare had come true, that he'd unknowingly climbed into the Lifeboat and landed in a jarring alternate reality where they were nothing more than strangers.

He wandered down to the lower level with a dejected sigh, hoping he could find something productive to do elsewhere, but no such luck. When it became glaringly apparent that Rufus wasn't even there to rely on for a distraction, Wyatt almost called it quits and went home in defeat, but there was no appeal to sitting around staring aimlessly at his four stark walls. Just as he was kicking at the nonexistent dust and preparing to walk out with his proverbial tail between his legs, the impossible - the miraculous, even - finally happened.

The ubiquitous posse of extra Homeland agents began to filter out of the conference room that seemed to serve as their current base camp, all funneling down the hall past him without so much as sidelong glance in his direction, and Wyatt could hardly believe his eyes when he realized Lucy wasn't with them.

He tried to play it cool for several excruciating minutes until the last of the agents were completely out of sight, then he practically broke the land speed record as he darted up the nearest stairwell and marched right into the recently vacated conference room, ready to deliver some off-the-cuff heartfelt speech to bring an end to this weird vacuum that seemed to exist between them, but of course - dammit, _of course_ \- she wasn't there. The room held nothing but mountains of paperwork.

Wyatt wished he could easily shrug off his disappointment, but that was easier said than done. After a moment of indecision and a very brief debate with his conscience, he decided to poke around the room while he had the chance to do so, beyond exasperated with the fact that he was still being kept out of the loop after so many days of radio silence.

Maybe it was the dangerous buildup of his growing aggravation or the rush of unfulfilled adrenaline at missing his chance to talk to Lucy when he'd been so sure that he finally had the opening he'd needed, but either way, he knew he was in trouble within just a few seconds of being alone in that conference room. It was like a disorderly imbalance of energy consumed him and he was suddenly rifling through stacks of files with abandon, scanning them and committing them to memory until he turned too quickly a bull in that stupid old china shop, causing a total avalanche of file folders with a bumbling jab of his elbow.

He ducked down immediately and went to work on shoving an array of forms and clippings back into their proper places, but he wasn't fast enough. A few sharp clicks echoed down the hall and then a shrill question was crackling across the room.

"What have you done?!"

It was the first four words Lucy had said to him in as many days, and as much as he wished her voice was even the tiniest bit more pleasant, hearing her scold him was certainly better than hearing nothing at all.

He glanced up from the mess he'd made and painted on a wry grin. "From the tone of your voice, I'm assuming I've screwed up."

" _Don't_ ," she exhaled with a hard mask of irritation, "don't you dare try to joke your way out of this. What the hell, Wyatt? I've been working on this for days!"

"Working on assembling every last detail of your mom's entire life - as well as most of your own - into tidy little folders? Could they possibly think of a more pointlessly antiquated way of approaching this?"

She crossed the room without easing a single line of her frowning face, then knelt next to him and joined in the task of reordering the aftermath of his blunder. "I could do without the snark. This wasn't my idea, you know. I'm just trying to be cooperative."

He went still at that, his next irreverent remark coming out before he could think better of it. "So how about the frosty lack of communication with the rest of your team? Is that just cooperation on your part too?"

There was no mistaking the wounded look in her eyes, but he could see that she was far from stunned. In a startlingly even voice, Lucy answered him without pause. "I'm sorry, but I've been a little busy lately in case you haven't noticed. Haven't had the time or the energy for much socialization."

"I'm worried about you," he murmured, abruptly dropping all judgment and sarcasm from his voice and going straight for the truth instead. "I miss you, Lucy, and the worst part is that you're right here and I can't get near you."

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

"That wasn't overly convincing," he said gently. "Are you okay? Seriously, tell me that you're taking care of yourself and not letting these bastards work you to the bone, because - "

"Wyatt, please…" she blinked with some effort, focusing her gaze on the paper that was tightly clenched between her hands, "I...you don't have to - "

"Don't have to what? Don't have to care about you? Don't have to worry even though it seems like you're locked up in this room 24/7, never taking a break to eat or sleep or go outside and - "

"That's not true," she protested with a fragile attempt at a smile, "you make it sound like I'm a prisoner here."

"Probably because that's exactly what it looks like to me," he answered humorlessly.

Lucy dropped the paper from her white-knuckled grip and stood with a sigh. "I have to do this, Wyatt. I have to do everything I can to...I don't know, to make this better."

He stood too, his hands balling up in his jacket pockets to keep himself from throwing her over his shoulder and sprinting away to anywhere that wasn't right here. "You're saying that like you're responsible for what your mom has done."

"I know I'm not," she returned a little too quickly, "but if this is what it takes to prove - "

"To prove _what_? Anyone who knows you knows where your loyalty lies, Lucy."

She tucked her lips together and looked down at the remaining clutter on the floor. "Are you sure about that?"

Wyatt couldn't gather a full breath. He swallowed dryly and took a step forward. "Sure about your loyalty?"

"Sure that you still think you know me."

He was shocked and shattered to the core. "I haven't questioned that at all, not even for an instant."

Lucy nodded slowly with her eyes still trained on her shoes.

"Is that...is that why you've been so distant?" Wyatt took another step toward her, his words leaving him with a measured level of calm that he wasn't feeling in the slightest. "Because you were afraid that I could so easily take you for one of them? For part of Rittenhouse...?"

She didn't speak for more than a minute, her face pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent lights above them. "It didn't occur to me at first. I was just so upset and you were...you were _you_. Kind, supportive, unflappable. But from the moment these guys from Washington showed up, it became pretty obvious that the most natural conclusion - _everyone's_ natural conclusion, I was assured - would be to question my role in all of this. Why was I chosen that first night when Flynn stole the Mothership? Of all the historians in the country, why was my name the one that came up first for the mission to the Hindenburg? Just how often have I spoken to my mom first thing after returning home from one of these jumps? In what ways was I possibly tipping her off even if I was honoring my nondisclosure agreement? Five minutes alone with them, and even I was unsure about who I really was."

The lump in his throat wouldn't quite budge, so he stubbornly spoke around it. "I'm sure. I've always been sure."

"No you haven't," she muttered with a caustic laugh. "Remember Watergate? Flynn and the journal? And you're telling me that you didn't once think that the thing about my mystery dad being one in the same with the asshole who'd been threatening Rufus wasn't a strange coincidence? I have _always_ been tied up in this whole mess in ways that I haven't understood from the beginning, and you - "

"And I was pissed about the journal, but only because it hit an obvious nerve," he broke in firmly. "Never once was it more than that, Lucy. We got over it and I've never looked back. Not when I heard about your dad and definitely not when you called me about your mom. I was there that night, remember? You were devastated. No one is that good of an actress, especially not you."

One corner of her mouth turned up by just a half of an inch. "I'll try not to take that last part personally."

"Take it how you will," he said with the first honest grin he'd had in days. "Just promise me that you won't let these Homeland bastards get inside your head when it comes to you and me, okay? It wouldn't be a real investigation if there weren't a few deadbeats set on playing the bad cop schtick, but you have nothing to worry about. I'm sure of it."

A tiny crest of hope rose into her eyes. "I thought that good cop-bad cop thing was just a cliche reserved for TV shows and movies."

"I wish," he said with a shrug, "but in my experience, there's always at least one prick in every interrogation room who comes in with the sole agenda of treating you like shit and playing endless mind games until you start to believe the worst about yourself too."

"This happened to you!? During Jessica's investigation?" she asked with sheer horror lining her every word.

"Don't look so surprised, Lucy," he returned with a forced nonchalance. "The spouse is always the first place they go in a case like that."

If he'd thought she'd looked exhausted before, there wasn't a word for how weary she seemed now.

"That's so screwed up," she breathed out tremulously. "But you're right, I shouldn't be surprised. Everything... _everything_ is so screwed up all the time, isn't it? That's just how it all works."

"Not everything," he said with his hands finally emerging from his pockets, reaching for her at long last and drawing her in for a hug that seemed overdue by lightyears. "Not this."

She slid against him with practiced ease, her head immediately wilting into his shoulder as her arms circled his waist. "I'm so sorry that I've been distant, Wyatt. It was... _suggested_ that I keep to myself until given further notice, but I didn't even try to fight them on it. I was too afraid that you and Rufus….that you guys wouldn't trust me anymore."

His arms tightened around her as he sighed into her hair. Relief didn't even begin to cover what he felt at the moment. "Water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned. Just don't let it happen again, solder. We're all for one and one for all."

"Three Musketeers? Nice reference. I like it."

"Don't tell Rufus. He really has his heart set on calling us the Time Team," he said with a chuckle, arms still locked around her with no intention of letting go anytime soon. His next breath brought a cloud of sweetness with it, and he instinctively nudged his nose further into her shiny dark locks and inhaled again. "You smell surprisingly good for a woman who hasn't been released for so much as a shower in the last four or five days."

"Thanks, but that's not exactly true," she answered lightly. "I've earned shower privileges on the merit of good behavior."

He smiled broadly and took a miniscule step back to meet her eyes. "Have I mentioned how much I missed you, Lucy? Because it's worth repeating even if I have."

He'd meant it fully and with affection, but his words seemed to miss the mark entirely when he saw the guilt bounce back into her crumpling brow.

"I'm sorry," she said with wringing self-reproach, "I never should have - "

"Hey, what did I say? Water under the bridge." At her doubtful sigh, he made a split-second decision and sprang into action. With one hand sliding down to clasp hers, he pulled her along with him as he bounded out into the hall.

"Uh, where are we going?"

He glanced back at her, pleased to see the beginnings of a thrilling grin playing at her lips. "Breaking you out of here. You need some fresh air. A little vitamin D along with some R&R is going to do you a world of good."

"But, Wyatt - "

"You want to stay cooped up in this place forever or do you want to go on a field trip?"

She tugged on his arm to slow him down, but he took it as a win that she also wasn't coming to a complete stop. "It's not as simple as that. I really don't want to piss these guys off. They went out for an early lunch, but they'll be back soon and…"

" _And_..?" he prompted with a smugly arched eyebrow.

Lucy rolled her eyes at him with a poorly hidden smile. "And maybe we should at least wait until they're back to let them know that I didn't randomly go AWOL."

"AWOL," he repeated with a laugh, "excellent use of a military acronym, Lucy."

"Everybody knows that one," she huffed back at him. "Don't detract from the point."

"Haven't you ever heard that it's better to apologize later than to ask for permission and be told no?"

"You're a bad influence," she grumbled without any heat.

Wyatt pivoted to take her other hand as well, backing toward the rapidly approaching exit with his best shot at a persuasive grin. "We'll check in shortly, alright? Live a little, Preston."

He dropped her hands and stepped out into the irresistible sunshine. With one rapid glance over her shoulder and a darting look of apprehension, Lucy followed suit and joined him in the sunlit warmth.

"This better be worth the trouble," she said with a hearty shake of her head. "They'll probably put a tracking bracelet on my wrist after this stunt of yours."

"C'mon, jailbird. We're not going far, so quit your worrying."

Wyatt continued along with dauntless determination, but it seemed like he'd finally gotten through to her, because Lucy didn't utter another word of objection or concern. Feeling emboldened by just about everything that was suddenly working in his favor - the providentially good weather, the air that had finally been cleared between them, her sudden spontaneity, and the major lift in his mood that resulted from all of the above - he stretched an arm across her shoulders and kept her close until they'd reached their destination. It was nothing more than a small island of grass at the edge of the Mason's property with two small trees providing minimal shade in the otherwise undeveloped and unlandscaped ocean of concrete.

She regarded him with a skeptical glance once he came to a halt, then gave the spot a curious double take. "This is it? We took a field trip across the _parking lot_? What exactly are we supposed to do here?"

"I already told you," he said confidently, "we're here for vitamin D and R&R. That's sun, rest, and - "

"I know what all of those things mean, Wyatt."

"Knowing and understanding are clearly two different things then," he replied with a smirk. "Watch and learn."

He left her side to sprawl out flat on his back across the patch of green earth, the length of his body just barely fitting in the space allotted between the trees, but thankfully there was still plenty of room beside him. He thumped his hand there for good measure, letting her know exactly where he expected her to join him.

Lucy's expression was far from enthusiastic. "This is the lamest field trip ever."

Wyatt tilted his head up at her and shaded his eyes with his hand. "I'm telling you, ma'am, it's gonna cure what ails ya. Don't knock it till you try it."

"This is ridiculous," she mumbled to herself, taking far more care than he had to lower herself onto the ground in a manner that would guard against the threat of dirt and grass stains. "The only thing I'm going to take away from this experience will be the bugs that are bound to crawl into my hair."

He ignored her grumbling and helped her get situated, guiding her into him until her body was curled up against his side and her head was nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. "Alright, now close your eyes."

"So I can't even be on the lookout for the bugs that are going to be crawling into my hair?"

"Remind me to never take you camping."

"Too late," she snickered. "1754, Wyatt. If that doesn't count as camping, I don't know what does."

"Point taken, although that was too horrible to even qualify as camping in my opinion." He wrapped an arm securely around her back and snuggled her right up against him until they were pressed together from head to toe. "Are your eyes closed yet?"

"Yes," she hummed into his chest.

"Fantastic. Now there's only simple rule to make this work. All you need to do is soak up the sunshine and clear your head, which means there's no mention of anything relating to work, your crazy family tree, creepy secret societies, or slimy government agents. If you're going to talk or think at all, those topics are officially off limits. Got it?"

She gave a slight shrug and burrowed her chin into his shirt. "Fine. How about those Dodgers, huh?"

He let his own eyes slip closed as a laugh rumbled through him. "Yeah, tell me one thing about the Dodgers' current season and I'll be unbelievably impressed."

"You caught me," she confessed through a subdued yawn, "I mean, I'm a native Californian so _go Dodgers_ of course, but that's all I've got."

"Okay, I think we both know that you can do better than that," he said with a short tsk-ing sound. "We should go to a game some time to get you beyond the 'go Dodgers' phase of that bandwagon you're riding."

Her hand came to rest comfortably over his chest. "Throw in a hotdog and a cute hat and we have a deal."

The mental image of Lucy sporting a Dodgers hat and chowing down on a hotdog made him more ecstatic than he had any right to be. "I think all of that can be arranged."

"Great," she murmured, "can't wait."

He felt her dropping off gradually, her head sinking resolutely into him and her breathing tapering off until her body was rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that only comes with untroubled sleep. He'd known she wouldn't be able to resist for too long. Her eyes had been ringed with an alarming restlessness and she'd been strung so tight that it was only a matter of time before she snapped unless something changed. It was no surprise that this intervention had automatically given way to fast-acting nap. What he hadn't anticipated was that the weight of his own weariness was quickly catching up as well. His burdens were melting away beneath the shimmering sun, leaving nothing but sleepy contentment in its wake. Before he could let himself get washed away in the sweet tide of Lucy's presence, he made good on his promise of checking in.

He slipped his cell out of his pocket and navigated his way through a cumbersome one-handed text message to Agent Christoper, letting her know that he and Lucy had gone out for a little fresh air and would return soon. With that objective completed, he returned his phone to where it belonged and closed his eyes against the brightness of such a beautiful day.

That same light was slanting over him at a totally new angle when he woke slowly to find himself cocooned in the cresting temperatures of the afternoon and a snarl of slender limbs. An oncoming sunburn wasn't the only thing heating him up from the inside out. Lucy had propelled herself halfway over top of him in her sleep, a leg hooked around him and her head of dark curls jammed against his throat. Most notably, however, was the warm impression of her bare arm that had found its way _beneath_ his shirt and was slung snugly around his torso. He smiled indolently, a little breathless and a lot turned on at the sensation of her skin pressing so intimately to his. If this was a preview of what it was like to sleep next to her under the most innocent of premises, he couldn't help but imagine that everything else with Lucy would prove to be very interesting from here on out.

He retrieved his phone carefully without much of a disturbance to the sleeping beauty twined around him. It was almost one, and judging by a quick scan of his awaiting messages, Agent Christopher had not only made peace with their impromptu escape, she'd actually _encouraged_ it. Her responding text didn't quite say that her extra crew from Homeland felt the same way, but to hell with them. They didn't know Lucy, and they damn well didn't have her best interests in mind, so they could screw off for all he cared. She was right where she needed to be.

Almost as if she'd heard that last thought, Lucy began to arch herself sideways with a soft groan. "Mmm...Wyatt?"

"Right here, Luce."

"Sorry for smothering you."

He took note of the fact the she must not have been too sorry since she was doing nothing to scrape herself off of him. "No problem. I'll live."

"Good. Living is good," she mumbled into his neck.

He closed his eyes and tried to get ahold of himself before her voice - all low and groggy and too damn attractive - wrecked him beyond repair. "How was the R&R?"

"Everything you promised it would be. Should have known. You have a solid track record of being right about these things."

"I'll be tucking that statement away for the next time a certain know-it-all tries to argue with me."

"Hmm." She rolled over onto her back, causing an intoxicating friction as her arm followed after her, dragging over his abdomen and leaving behind a spray of exhilarating goosebumps. "I think I'll deny that we ever had this conversation. Your word against mine."

Wyatt toyed with the hem of her t-shirt, far too preoccupied to put up much of a fight. "Whatever. I kind of like it when we argue anyway."

"You do, huh?" She angled her face upward, her molten brown eyes full of bemused delight as she regarded him. "And why would that be? You just enjoy a rousing debate from time to time?"

"If we're putting an emphasis on the word _rousing_ , then hell yes, I absolutely love a good debate."

Lucy propped herself up on one elbow and leaned over him, her hair forming a lush little curtain on either side of his face as she bent nearer. "Is this really happening? You and me? Because it sounds like we -"

He jolted upward and pressed his mouth to hers, immersing himself in a reprise of the kiss that had been haunting all of his best dreams for the last several months. Lucy didn't miss a beat, her hands dusting through his hair as she dissolved into the embrace like quicksilver.

"It's happening," he whispered against her cheek, even more winded than he'd been after his morning workout for reasons that could only stem from the inherent magic of Lucy Preston. "I want it to be happening, so tell me if it's not and -"

She moved to kiss him into silence that time, fingers clawing back through his scalp as her lips descended upon him once more.

"It's happening," she assured between panting breaths.

"Oh thank God," he said with a lazy smirk, "this sure would have gotten awkward fast if one of us backed out now."

"Nope, you're officially stuck with me. I don't take naps in the bug-ridden grass for just anyone."

Wyatt looped his arms around her hips and tugged her closer. "Admit it. You'd take bugs in your hair over spending another second with those roaches from Homeland Security any day of the week."

She left a short, zapping kiss on his lips before ruffling a hand through his hair. "I'd choose the bugs just because that's the same as choosing _you_ , Wyatt. Thank you for swooping in and stealing me away."

His thumb teased across the sliver of skin that was peeking out between the hem of her top and the waist of her jeans. "My only regret is that I didn't do it sooner."

"It was soon enough," she said softly, her hands dipping down to find anchor at his jawline. "You're going back in there with me, by the way. I'm not facing that firing squad alone after this."

"Perfect, couldn't have said it better myself," he spoke keenly into the crown of her glossy hair. "Let's keep it that way, ma'am."

"You have my word."

Those four lilting words brought him more peace, more unadulterated comfort, than he'd known in years. If there was such a thing as a soul-deep x-ray machine, he was sure that his meter for happiness would be leaping right off the charts now. Judging by the persistent little kisses that Lucy was leaving up and down his neck, her soul was definitely on the rebound too.


End file.
